


Angel Eyes

by castiellations



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8872891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiellations/pseuds/castiellations
Summary: "You know all the things that I've done, Cas. The people I've killed, the lengths I've gone to to protect the ones I love. You may be able to live with that, but I can't. I can't keep going about my day when some mother lost her child because of me. I can't make a cup of coffee knowing that Kevin will never be able to again. Everywhere I go, I'm haunted by the mistakes that I've made and will continue to make. At one point, Cas, you were enough to keep me going. But it's getting to be too much, and I'm just so tired."





	

1.

As the years went on, Dean Winchester became more and more reckless, and the people around him were forced to watch as he slowly self-destructed.

The weight of the world became too much for him to bear on his aging shoulders, and he still fought like hell, but it was a known fact that he was getting tired. Of fighting, of living, Dean was tired of it all. And Castiel had to stand by and watch the man he loved waste away, helpless and afraid. He tried to intervene when he could, but Dean was famous for pushing people away, and even Sam couldn't get a word in.

He hurt himself in more ways than one, most notably his self-sacrificing nature, his compulsion to throw himself into the line of fire, to save anyone and everyone.

To an outsider, it was noble, and incredibly brave, and even Sam had sort of gotten used to it, but to Castiel? It was the absolute worst thing. To see the man that he loved, throwing his life away so effortlessly, it caused an ache so deep in his chest that demanded to be addressed.

\--

"Cas? We need you down here right now, Dean's in trouble, you have to help him." Normally, Sam or Dean called Cas for help on a case, or to heal minor injuries, often even just to hang out and grab a beer, but it was becoming increasingly common for Sam to call out to the angel, his voice tinged with desperation, as Dean lay at his feet.

And even though Castiel always made it on time, it still caused his vessel's heart to leap into his throat whenever he heard that sentence, because there was bound to be a time when the hunter's wounds were too extensive for his grace to heal, and if he kept it up, death was just one misstep away. It scared him more than he cared to admit, so he always made sure to be there within a second of Sam's call.

"Oh, thank god you showed up, you're going to have to hurry, I don't know how much longer he's got." Sam grabs Castiel's arm with a strong sense of urgency and drags him to what seems to be the office of the small house they're in. The short run there is full of Castiel trying to prepare himself for what state Dean will be in, and gather up his grace for any major wounds.

But when he sees the hunter's form lying motionless on the ground, he freezes.

Choking, gasping for breath, Dean is barely holding on. Two bullet holes are lodged in his chest, another one in his stomach. Iron is flooding the angel's nose from the large pool of blood surrounding Dean, which is only growing larger with every wasted second. Dean's chest is heaving, his lungs scrambling for air that isn't there, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He's got minutes, at most, but Castiel is so struck with the familiarity of it that he can't move.

He still finds himself plagued by the images of the hundreds of copies he had killed of Dean under Naomi's mind control. And seeing Dean like this? It was so similar that he could almost feel the blood on his hands.

"It's not too bad, right? You can fix him up?" Brought out of his trance, Castiel looks up to see Sam wringing his hands, scared and trying to hold himself together. The angel scolds himself for taking so long, for getting caught up in his own guilt that he worries the younger Winchester, and puts Dean in even more pain than necessary. This could have been the deciding second between life or death, and Castiel was just caught hesitating.

"Of course." Taking a deep breath, Castiel kneels down in front of Dean, placing a shaking hand over his heart. It's such a human emotion, fear, but he feels it in his core, just the thought of losing his righteous man being too much to bear. He focuses all of his grace towards healing Dean, and is relieved when the wounds disappear, leaving the skin smooth and covered with drying blood. He hears Sam let out his breath above him, sounding ten times lighter.

Castiel watches as Dean's eyes clear up, as he gulps in air by the lungfuls, and struggles to sit up. When he sees his newly healed torso, Dean's expression is not one of relief, but Castiel does see hints of sadness, and maybe even disappointment, before he covers it up with a more neutral expression.

Dean gathers Castiel into a hug, pulling back only to capture his lips in a brief kiss. "Thanks, Cas, almost didn't make it out of that one." He flashes a crooked smile that conveys gratitude, but it somehow doesn't reach his eyes.

2.

When Castiel walks into the bunker, Sam is sitting in the library, sipping coffee and flipping through an old Men of Letters book. He looks up and immediately closes the book, giving the angel his full attention.

"What happened?" Castiel is on edge, having received a call from Sam earlier, asking him to come and try to talk to Dean, and he honestly has no idea what to expect. It could be lingering injuries, or Dean in some funk again, or maybe-

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. "Vampire nest. They were going through town and picking off the children as they went. Dean had promised one girl that he'd get her out of it, alive. I bet you can guess what happened. He's pretty torn up about it." Castiel sees that the younger brother is affected by it too, and his borrowed heart aches for the both of them. All they ever want to do is help, but death is inevitable in this line of work, and it sometimes seems to overshadow the good being done.

"And you want me to try to talk to him about it?" Castiel doesn't understand why Sam would call him now of all times. When Dean shuts himself away, it's almost impossible to coax him out. The best thing to do is wait it out and make sure he doesn't get alcohol poisoning.

That's not to say that they haven't tried, boy have they tried. In the beginning, when it hadn't been as bad, Sam and Castiel would spend hours trying to talk to Dean, beg him to see the light where he was only plunged in darkness. Nothing worked. Castiel continued to try long after Sam had given up, but Dean wouldn't see reason, he was so blinded by his own self-hatred. It tore the angel apart, still does, and a large part of him is deeply ashamed for letting the hunter continue to destroy his mental and physical health on such a regular basis, or even at all.

Sam looks away. "Us sitting on the sidelines, it feels like we're encouraging him to keep going, to hit his breaking point. I know that both of us want the best for him, and that we tried to help, but this is Dean we're talking about. If we were in the same position that he was, he would stop at nothing to nurse us back to health. We owe him this, and so much more." The shame sinks deeper into Castiel's gut, consumes him. "I tried to talk to him again about an hour ago, it went about the same as you would expect, but I need you to give it a try. Please."

He swallows. "Of course, Sam."

Castiel turns and starts the short walk to Dean's bedroom, his heart in his throat. He feels sick to his stomach, not at the prospect of talking to Dean, but because of his own poor choices. He claims to love this man with all of his being (and oh god he practically breathes Dean Winchester) and yet he left him at his neediest, his most vulnerable. At the time, he had reasoned that space was what the older Winchester needed, but that's such a foolish move on his part, how could he not have realized that earlier?

Castiel knocks on the smooth wood of the door before walking in, not waiting for a reply. What he's met with nearly brings him to his knees, the guilt, horror, and nausea almost too much to bear.

Empty liquor/whiskey/vodka bottles are littered all over the floor, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol floods Castiel's senses. The only light comes from a weak lamp on the bedside table that seems to cast shadows over the room, making the situation only that much more awful.

Lying in the middle of it all, sprawled across his bed, is the man responsible for consuming all that alcohol, and he looks near the point of passing out. Every atom, every fiber of Castiel's being aches for Dean, seeing just how miserable he is, watching his life and will to live fade away with every gulp. Unable to find a single word to describe his distress, the angel slowly walks over to the bed, carefully avoiding the many bottles strewn about.

Dean's eyes follow him lazily, his body otherwise not responsive to someone he used to gravitate towards.

All Castiel can make himself do is lay down on the alcohol soaked bed, and gather Dean into his arms, ignoring the faint grunts of annoyance coming from the hunter. With shaking hands, he pets back sweat-soaked hair, and tangles himself around the broken man that is only falling more each and every day. His grace removes enough whiskey for Dean to just be left with a pleasant buzz, his mind clear enough to understand whatever Castiel plans to say.

Except he has no idea what he could possibly say to make Dean realize just how loved he is, make him realize that life is worth living, that alcohol won't fill the gap in his chest. Because none of those words will stop him from downing liquor the next time someone innocent dies. Nothing he could say now will be any different from what he's said a hundred times before, and Castiel fears that there is no going back. That maybe he didn't try hard enough, that maybe Dean is going down a path that he can't come back from.

It scares the shit out of Castiel, and with this, he starts to feel his throat close up. Emotions have never come easy for him, but now the floodgate seems to have broken open, because his chest feels tight and his vision is starting to blur. Suddenly there are tears streaming down his cheeks, and he can't breathe with the despair and hopelessness that is washing over him in waves.

Dean must feel the tears on his head, because he lifts his head just enough to look into Castiel's eyes, his expression a mix of guilt and awe. Dean has never seen the angel cry, and the shock of it is written all over his face.

They lay there for what seems like hours, Dean out of his element and Castiel clutching to the man that he would die for, over and over again.

"This, this isn't worth dying for." Eventually Castiel is able to compose himself enough to choke out a single sentence, trying to convey his worry and sorrow into it, hoping that it's enough to reach through to Dean, to show him just how much he means to him.

Dean's eyes are clear for the first time in months, and they too are full of unshed tears, glistening and full of emotion. He reaches up and cups Castiel's jaw, his thumb sweeping away a stray tear. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but he too is at a loss for words, as if he'll say something harsh that'll break this fragile moment between them.

All Dean does is nod, his jaw clenched with what seems to be determination, as if Castiel's tears moved him in a way that his words never could. For the first time all night, Dean grips Castiel just as tight, both of them falling into the embrace of the other, clinging to this precious time together.

Castiel sees it as improvement, and he knows that he couldn't force a conversation right now if he tried, so he decides that it can wait until morning, and savors every minute of what they have, right here and now.

3.

Dean gets better. It takes weeks, months before he's able to put down the liquor and exchange it for a movie night with Castiel, but he does. Their bond is stronger than it's been in over a year, and communication is becoming a key part in their relationship. It's healthy, what they have, both parties genuinely interested in bettering the other. Castiel is happy, and he can safely say that Dean is on the road to being just as content.

Dean now sings in the shower, plays tic-tac-toe with his brother, and binge watches Game of Thrones with a heaping bowl of strawberry ice cream at three in the morning. He's better.

At least that's what Castiel tells himself as he frantically searches the country for Dean after not hearing from him for four days. No phone calls, no prayers, nothing. This is one of the many times that he regrets ever carving those runes into his ribcage, because now he's missing, and could be dead at this point, and no one would ever know. It would drive Sam insane. Castiel would search the world until he found him, alive or not, but Sam only has so many resources.

The first real indication that something was off was when they found the Impala nestled in some back alley in Ohio, abandoned and unlocked, just waiting to be robbed. Sam was completely baffled, knowing that Dean would rather die than risk his Baby getting abused.

But maybe that was the point that they had been missing. Dean wanted so badly to die, he didn't even care about the well-being of his car anymore. And yet, Castiel never saw it coming. He had kept what he had presumed to be a close eye on Dean for the better part of a year, and all he ever noted were improvements. Even now, there's a large part of him hoping, praying, that Dean is just passed out drunk in a nearby motel. Drinking is a problem that they can tackle, but death? Death is irreversible, Billie made sure of that.

Castiel scouted the entire city, looking for just one hint of his righteous man, each minute without him causing his insides to twist. It wasn't until nearly 5 the next morning that the angel was finally able to breathe again, catching sight of familiar bow legs and a worn green jacket, just on the edge of town.

They were in a cluster of abandoned warehouses, and Dean was just wandering around, clearly distraught, but also clearly sober. Sam was on the other side of the city, and even though Castiel wanted to let him know about Dean's whereabouts, he knew where his priorities really lied.

The angel stepped out of the shadows slowly, careful not to scare the hunter away. Dean didn't even flinch, or look surprised. It's like he had expected Castiel all along, and it didn't affect him in the slightest.

"You know, I was planning this whole detailed story about my life, all the tiny burnt up parts that led to this broken down whole." Dean gestures vaguely at himself, and Castiel sees the glint of a gun in his hands that he hadn't noticed before. Dean's stance and body language is rigid and stiff, while his face is kept carefully blank.

"I was going to try to justify to you why I don't want to be here, why I would rather face actual Hell, than continue living in this one. I planned it, all of it, because I knew you would find me before I managed to pull this damn trigger. But now? Now I'm realizing that you know it. You know every single thing about me, hell, you pieced me back together, you know everything there is to know about me. Now I know that the only reason I waited this long, was because I wanted you to be the last thing I saw before the lights went out."

Castiel steps forward, his hand twitching towards Dean. His whole body is aching with desperation and panic, this moment that shouldn't be happening, can't be happening. But Dean takes a step back, lifting the gun just an inch closer to his heart. This is as real as it gets. And Castiel doesn't know what to do to stop it.

"For the longest time, you were the one keeping me sane, even when I didn't think I could get out of bed in the morning. It was you, that brought light to the places where I only saw darkness. I wanted to build a life with you. I wanted a house just outside of town limits, I wanted two small kids to run around the front lawn, I wanted everything, all of it. I wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life, I just wanted you, Cas." Dean is trying so hard to keep his expression neutral, but Castiel can see the cracks, see the slight glaze in his eyes.

"Dean, you can have me, you know that. You know that I am fully committed to you, that I will never leave, that I will choose you, forever." Every ounce of sincerity that Castiel possesses, strains his voice and soaks his words. Right now, all he can feel is a fear more intense than any other. Dean's shoulders slump forward just the tiniest bit, and his face slips into an expression that Castiel can only describe as sad.

"You know all the things that I've done, Cas. The people I've killed, the lengths I've gone to to protect the ones I love. You may be able to live with that, but I can't. I can't keep going about my day when some mother lost her child because of me. I can't make a cup of coffee knowing that Kevin will never be able to again. Everywhere I go, I'm haunted by the mistakes that I've made and will continue to make. At one point, Cas, you were enough to keep me going. But it's getting to be too much, and I'm just so tired."

Castiel is at a loss. From here, the angel can feel the energy radiating from Dean's soul, frail and losing its power with every second that Dean holds that gun. No words are going to get through to the hunter, not when he's so determined to end his suffering. So Castiel resorts to the only option left.

In a time frame faster than the human mind can comprehend, Castiel crosses the distance between him and Dean, wrenching the gun out of his hand and enveloping him in his arms, Dean's back against his chest. It takes nearly a second for Dean to understand what happened, and then everything breaks loose.

For hours, Castiel holds Dean close as the hunter screams and thrashes against his hold, never relenting. Dean is strong, but he's no match against a celestial being, and yet he doesn't give in. He yells, he throws insults, he does everything in his power to reach for the gun just 10 feet away from them. Every second of it is pure torture for the angel, but he keeps going, determined to hold Dean steady physically until he's ready to talk.

Finally, Dean's fight simmers down, and his body relaxes against Castiel's, not even bothering to hold up his own weight. The angel waits a few minutes before relaxing his grip, expecting Dean to lunge for the gun.

He doesn't.

Instead, Dean turns around in Castiel's arms and returns the embrace, burying his face in the angel's neck.

They stand there for what feels like days, drawing comfort from the other, and trying to figure out just how to fix all of this.

4.

It was a trap. Castiel had caught the smell of holy oil a millisecond too late, as a ring of fire quickly encircled him.

Dean looks wide-eyed between his brother, who's passed out against a wall, and Castiel, caught in a deadly circle of flame. They both exchange a look, a mix of wariness and confusion. They don't know what's going on, but it's obvious that Dean is the target.

"Dean Winchester!" A figure steps out of the shadows, revealing a middle-aged man, or rather, a demon wearing a middle-aged man. He's unfamiliar to Castiel, but Dean's hand clenches minutely on the knife he holds in his right hand. Four more men cluster behind the first, each one soulless and black-eyed. "Remember me? Years ago, back when you waltzed around Hell, torturing souls like it was nothing? You didn't know if I deserved it, and you didn't care, and now I'm here because you do deserve this." A smirk slowly spreads across his lips, looking more like a menacing snarl than anything else. "They even gave me my old meatsuit back." He raises his hand to snap once, theatrically and all for show.

Castiel watches as the four demons simultaneously step out in front of their leader, already starting for Dean. The leader, obviously not willing to do the dirty work, keeps talking. "Your buddy Crowley is absolutely heartbroken, knowing that you chose that angel over him. So it didn't even take much convincing for him to give me my own personal army to take down the famous Dean Winchester, complete with a list of weaknesses and everything." The minute his mouth closes, the demons pounce on Dean, relentless and strong.

Dean fights, he does, which is most surprising to Castiel. He knows that he's grimly outnumbered, but he still does his best to give them hell. He's trying to fight for his life, which is all Castiel has ever wanted. It breaks his heart.

"Listen. I'm not here to hurt the other two," the leader gestures vaguely at Castiel and Sam. "Because I know the perfect scenario would be if I killed all of you, and you all got to spend the rest of eternity together, away from the cruelty of Earth. That's just too nice. What we're gonna do here is wake up your brother, hand him some popcorn, and give them a show. I'm gonna rip every ligament from your body, piece by piece, and make them watch, from the first cut to your final breath. A tragedy at its finest." Rage floods every fiber of Castiel's body, every fiber of his being. Escaping the circle would do nothing, but he can't just sit here and watch his very nightmares come to life.

So he does the only thing he can think to do.

He screams.

Not a human scream, but one that will be heard from all over the world, that will reach every angel in heaven. Using all the energy he has, Castiel shatters the very essence of the demons in front of him, sending a protective layer over the Winchesters and watching the other five bodies disintegrate into nothing more than a memory.

When all is said and done, Castiel walks out of the circle and to Dean, bearing nothing more than a burn that doesn't heal.

+1

"Werewolves. It always has to be the werewolves." Dean scoffs, sliding the heartless corpse back into the fridge, and dusts invisible germs off of his hands. "Two or three by the looks of it. You guys ready to get your hands dirty?" He looks over at Sam and Castiel, giving them a smile that almost reaches his eyes.

He's been better lately, but Castiel is still wary, especially after the last period of him faking being fine. There's been definite progress, but after Castiel became human, Dean took a few steps back. He obviously blames himself, but Castiel actually quite enjoys his mortality. There are certain beauties to humanity that he could never appreciate as an angel, and he doesn't regret a second of it.

The trio spends the night in relative silence, scoping out the old farmhouse by the countryside, keeping an eye out for any wandering werewolves. There doesn't seem to be a 'right' time to strike, so they're just hoping for a stroke of good luck at this point.

Eventually, the clock reaches two the next morning, and Dean decides that now is the best opportunity that they're gonna get. They try to assemble as quietly as they can, aware of supernatural hearing and and the possibility of guards. It's at least a quarter of a mile walk from the Impala, so time seems to be the only thing on their side as of now. 

"Hey, Cas." Dean reaches out, stopping Castiel in his trek. Sam notices the exchange and keeps walking, trying to give the two of them some space. Dean's hand on his shoulder is gentle, warm, and squeezing reassurance, while emotions seem to be scattered all across his face. He's hyped up, adrenaline already kicking in, but Castiel sees bits and pieces of fear, mainly in his eyes. Dean hesitates for just a second, like he wants to say something, but can't find the right words, his mouth moving with no sound coming out.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind and leans forward, capturing Castiel's lips for just the briefest of moments, a mix of desperate and passionate. Castiel wants to hold onto it, this kiss being so pure, so them, with all the elements of love and fear and sadness, characteristic of the both of them, their relationship, and all the ups and downs that come with it.

When they break apart, Dean cradles Castiel's face, holding them together for just a few seconds longer, the moment intimate in a way that no one could intrude upon. Their breath colliding, Dean finally speaks. "Please, Cas, be careful tonight." He grips harder, his eyes squeezing shut. "I can't lose you."

Castiel nods, wanting to repeat the same back to him, but Dean lets go before he can, as if sensing that Castiel would try. With just one more quick peck, the two of them rush to catch up with Sam, the moment over, but a reminder still buzzing on Castiel's lips and mind.

\--

Dean was right in guessing that there were only a few to begin with, hardly enough to call a pack. Just a couple of college girls and guys who went in over their heads and then couldn't control themselves when it came to feeding. While they were new and inexperienced, Dean hadn't accounted for the fact that these teens were in the prime of their lives; muscular and athletic, faster than most, and that's without their newfound supernatural gift. Sam and Dean were nearing middle-aged, and even though Castiel still found traces of his own angelic strength, his human body was growing in age as well.

The element of surprise was really their only advantage going in, and helps them to kill one right off the bat. But he went out screaming, waking up the last three. From there, it's chaos. A young girl tackles Dean almost immediately, and before he even hits the ground, two more grab Sam and Castiel.

There was always something so simple about being able to smite a creature in his way, how their very life source burned under his hands. Now Castiel's muscles feel like they're bending and twisting in ways that don't feel natural, every bone in his body straining against the force of a near-rabid werewolf. As he's trying to keep the sharp, vicious claws away from his heart, he can hear Dean and Sam struggling, and has never wanted to be an angel more than in that moment.

Finally, finally, Castiel is able to gain the upper hand and throw the girl off of him, throwing punch after punch to keep her down until he can find his deflected silver knife. She stays there, unconscious and bleeding, her body healing fast. He doesn't have much time, but he can't find that knife for the life of him. Sam and Dean are occupied, struggling even, so he's on his own.

He's got a minute, top, before the girl wakes up, and his nerves are on overdrive, searching the entirety of the room for something, anything, silver.

"Cas? What do you need?" Castiel spares a second to locate Sam, who's near finishing off the werewolf in his hold, his body wrenching with the strain of holding him down. Another look around tells him that Dean is nowhere to be seen, and his heart skips a few beats.

"Silver, I need silver." His hands shake while he's rummaging through miscellaneous debris on the floor, looking for a glint of some sort, a bit of familiarity. He feels useless like this, and it doesn't help that the little physical strength he has is nothing against a tiny teenage werewolf.

There's a scuffle behind him, and he whirls around, coming face-to-face with enlarged irises, sparked with rage. His mind is screaming to move, attack, run, but he can't make his body cooperate. He's frozen in place, not even able to call for help. When she raises a clawed hand, all Castiel can do is close his eyes, his muscles paralyzed, and hope that his death will be quick and painless.

He waits for the blow to come.

It never does.

Instead, when he does open his eyes, he's met with forest green ones, wide and glassy.

When he does open his eyes, he's met with his worst nightmare.

He vaguely hears Sam yelling behind him, but all he can do is look back and forth between Dean's face, slack and sweaty, and the five claws protruding from his gut, bloody and pink from what could possibly be parts of his shredded intestines. The only thing keeping him upright are those damned claws, his body otherwise starting to shut down. Castiel still finds himself unable to move, his eyes glued on what he wishes was his imagination, Dean trying to mouth words that are too quiet to hear.

Eventually Castiel watches the claws slide out of Dean's midsection as Sam jams a silver knife into the neck of the werewolf. His body starts to fall forward, and finally, finally, Castiel's muscles are able to move in time to catch Dean. Castiel's knees buckle, and they both fall to the ground, Dean a heavy weight in the ex-angel's arms.

The hunter's breathing is labored, and each time his lungs struggle to bring air in, his midsection seems to compensate by releasing a gush of hot, sticky blood. Castiel immediately readjusts them so that Dean is laying with his head in Castiel's lap, Sam at his side and cursing loudly.

Castiel is trying desperately to stop the blood flow, his hands stained red as he futilely presses against the wound, blood seeping through his fingers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that his efforts are in vain, the wound is too extensive for the little expertise that he has. But he keeps trying anyways, because this is Dean, dammit.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean's voice is weak and the younger Winchester has to lean in to hear him. Castiel tunes them out, focusing entirely on the task at hand, knowing that he's just stalling, that the blood isn't stopping, that Dean isn't getting any better.

Sam's body is shaking, wracked with sobs as he's forced to face the fact that his big brother is leaving him, and won't be coming back. Castiel can feel tears prickling at his own eyes,   
knowing that Dean is telling Sam the same thing he tells him every time, (find a girl, settle down! Just make sure that Baby is taken care of though, alright? One scratch and you're dead, you hear me?) but that Billie is probably waiting in the doorway with a grim smile, ready to put the eldest living Winchester to rest once and for all.

And Castiel tries to force all of that out of his head, tries to convince himself that Dean is okay, but the blood is slowing down, and it has more to do with the growing puddle around them than his efforts.

"Hey, Cas, hey stop." A shaky hand grasps at Castiel's, stilling him. Castiel doesn't look up, just stares at their intertwined hands, stained in blood and unsteady with adrenaline.

Dean coughs, his whole body shuddering with the force of it, red dotting his lips. When the attack ends, he grips Castiel's hands with heightened desperation, pulling him closer.

"Cas, come on, look at me, I know it's hard, but I want to see your eyes, please, Cas." Dean's voice is strained, and the last thing Castiel wants to do is watch the life seep out of Dean's eyes, the brightest and liveliest things he had ever seen. But never in the years that he has known the hunter, has he been able to turn him down. So he looks. He turns directly towards the sun, his sun.

And Dean smiles. There's blood staining his teeth, and he's crying, but it's genuine. He reaches up to cup Castiel's face, stroking his cheekbone with awe. Castiel leans into the touch, closing his eyes as tears slip past his eyelids. He knows that he's in shock, knows that it's his body's way of letting him have one last calm moment with the love of his life, before everything around him shatters, but he holds onto it. He holds onto the roughness of Dean's hands, the plump of his lips, the brightness of his soul.

"Listen, Cas. It's gonna be hard, it might be the hardest thing you'll ever go through, but you will get past this, alright? You and Sammy'll miss me, but it's nothing the two of you can't handle. But I need you to promise me, Cas, promise me that you won't hold on for too long. You can't let my death rule the rest of your life, alright? You're human now, go live a human life." Dean is nearly to the point of rambling, and it's obvious that he's struggling to hold on. Castiel looks into those forest green eyes and loses it, the reality of the situation sinking in like a ton of bricks. 

"I tried everything, Dean, I tried so hard to save you. It should be me here, not you, never you, Dean." Dean's face pinches, pain sweeping across his features.

"Cas, hey, you did save me. Over and over." Dean's smile grows sad, and his hand starts to fall from Castiel's jaw. "I just finally found something worth dying for."

Not even a full minute later, Castiel watches as the light leaves his hunter's eyes, vibrant green fading to lifeless gray as his soul finds its way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Four times Castiel saves Dean, and one time Dean saves him back.


End file.
